Sir. Finn had to get used to that. "Think nothin' of it, lass." The junk wizard said as he ducked under one of the feather dusters as it moved over head. They were good kids, finding joy in the little things.
Junk was often overlooked, and in turn was a great place to find hidden treasure. Sometimes it was a simple paperclip, but other times it could be a magical device that sat on the shelf near Ary and Bry. A battered old compass who pointed in the direction of a paired compass somewhere on one of the shelves, instead of magnetic North.
Nesting atop a pile of junk on a high shelf sat a mechanical owl that beeped and booped as it rotated its head, and flapped its wing. A prototype for a device that was intended to deliver and read letters aloud.
Dangling off a gnarled coat hanger was a tattered outfit. With a twist of a button that was hardly hanging on, it would instantly transform into a magnificent set of robes. Some say it was created by a prince who wanted to blend in with the common rabble. Others claim it was made by a down on his luck pauper who desired to live amongst high society. Only one wizard knew for sure.
Sitting in an old mug were some quills made of diricawl feathers. Anything written by the quill will be apparated to a nearby recipient.
Finn would get a sudden urge to create something, and then leave it on the shelves when the next idea came to him. The junk shop was often overlooked and ignored, but to Finn, this was the most magical place in Diagon Alley.
__________________ In over his head |